


Dancing on a Poor Man's Grave

by Bit_Not_Good



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Double Penetration, M/M, Multi, Nipple Play, PWP, graveyard fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-11
Updated: 2016-01-11
Packaged: 2018-05-13 04:47:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5695333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bit_Not_Good/pseuds/Bit_Not_Good
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Greg and Mycroft take a break from helping Sherlock dig to fuck him in the arse. That's.... pretty much it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dancing on a Poor Man's Grave

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, _clearly_ this didn't actually happen, but it's nice and porny, so happy new year!

Sherlock looked like he was going to vibrate out of his skin. The poor kid had to be going through withdrawals by now, especially since he refused to rest and had only drunk water at Greg's insistence. There were lights surrounding them, placed there without fuss as the sun went down, and Sherlock's fevered digging had begun to slow. He clearly wouldn't be able to continue for much longer. 

 

"Alright, lad?" Greg asked quietly, squeezing the back of Sherlock's neck with one gloved hand. Sherlock tilted his hand into the touch and let out a sigh, hardly a breath. Greg could feel him shivering, with the cold and the drugs. He dropped his shovel. "Here now."

Greg released him long enough to haul himself up to sit beside the grave, offered a hand to pull Sherlock up as well. "I think you need a few minutes to relax," he said gently, stroking Sherlock's hair. Though he was nearly thirty-five, at that moment Sherlock looked like he had when Greg had first met him: young, vulnerable, and high.

Mycroft cleared his throat. "The sooner that grave is dug, the sooner we may leave," he informed them, as though either man had forgotten. Greg snorted and glanced up at him, still stroking Sherlock's hair.

"That grave isn't going to get dug if our young man here topples over into it." Sherlock grunted at that, twitching his head away. "Alright, yeah, I know." Greg rested his hand on Sherlock's shoulder, pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Let's take a break." He stood and tugged Sherlock up after him, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth, his nose, his lips. Though he didn't resist, Sherlock didn't reciprocate, swaying where he stood, eyes fluttering.

After a moment, Mycroft stepped up behind Sherlock, clasped his elbows. "Would you like us to tend to you, dear brother?" he murmured, kissing Sherlock's neck, causing him to moan. Greg reached down and was unsurprised to find a sizable bulge already growing in Sherlock's pants. He tugged at the hem.

"Get these off."

Sherlock obligingly undid his flies, pushed his trousers and pants down his narrow hips. He shivered. "S'cold."

"Let's warm you up, then. Come here." Greg sat down against a neighboring headstone, patted his lap. Mycroft helped Sherlock to kneel so he was straddling Lestrade, then began to undress. Greg ignored him in favor of unbuttoning Sherlock's blue shirt and pulling it open. Sherlock's nipples stood at attention in the cold, and goosebumps arched across his chest. Sherlock himself looked dazed, eyes dark with arousal and a blotchy flush spreading across his face and neck. He looked _delectable_.

Gently, Greg swept his leather-clad fingers along Sherlock's abdomen, feeling his flat belly, the ridges of his hips. Sherlock shivered at the touch, then yelped as Greg abruptly reached up to pinch his nipples. He still wore his work gloves, and his forearms were very pale against the dark leather.

"Geoff," he murmured, leaning into his touch. Greg snorted. 

"Still can't remember my name, you tosser?" Greg pinched his right nipple, bit at his left. "It's Greg." Sherlock whimpered.

Mycroft reappeared over Sherlock's shoulder, holding a small, discrete black back and wearing nothing but his overcoat. His clothes he had left on a nearby bench, neatly folded. He knelt between Greg's legs, behind Sherlock, and wrapped his arms around his brother's waist. His hands overlapped in the cradle of Sherlock's hips, and he leaned against him, lending him warmth, feeling him relax. For a moment, the three were still. Then he pulled back and, after some rustling, the the snap of a latex glove echoed through the cemetery. "Can you take us both, brother?"

Sherlock shuddered and surged forward, kissing Greg deeply for a long moment. "I think so," he said at last, breaking free to lean against Greg's shoulder. Greg felt his cock harden at the thought, and he wrapped his arms around Sherlock as Mycroft began to prepare him.

Over Sherlock's shoulder, Greg could see Mycroft slip a finger into Sherlock, slick and shining in the moonlight. Soon one became two, then three, and Sherlock was shuddering with the stimulation and grinding down against his brother's fingers. With each new finger, Mycroft murmured in his ear, pressed kisses to his shoulders. Greg felt he could watch this moment of quiet intimacy forever. 

When Mycroft could easily fit four fingers into him, he pulled out and tugged Sherlock back with his free hand. Greg scrambed to undo his flies, and then Mycroft had taken him in hand, was sliding a condom onto him. Greg shifted into his grip,  gasped and grabbed for Sherlock when Mycroft guided Greg's cock into him. Soon Sherlock was fully seated on Greg's cock, and was clenching and squirming around it. "That's-!" Sherlock gasped, bit his lip. "It's been so long." And Sherlock was incredibly tight for it, too.

Greg groaned and pulled him down for a kiss as he felt Mycroft work a finger in alongside his cock. Sherlock was incredibly hot, so slick- Mycroft had always been exceptionally good about preperation. Every time he pulled his fingers out, he gave Greg a stroke too, until Greg had to pull away from Sherlock's hungry mouth. 

"Keep that up and you'll have to fuck him alone," he gasped, and on top of him Sherlock gave a deep rumble of pleasure and rocked his hips. Greg smacked at his flank. "None of that, boy," he said sternly, and returned to playing with Sherlock's nipples. His arse had grown very tight around Greg as it was filled with Mycroft's fingers, and then the fingers were gone and Mycroft was sliding on a condom and slipping in beside Greg. As soon as he was fully seated in Sherlock, he stopped, watching as his brother swayed and winced, adjusting. Greg swore softly and brushed his fingers over Sherlock's belly again, watching his abs pull and flex around them.

After a moment, Mycroft looped his arms around his brother's waist again, leaning forward to nuzzle along Sherlock's neck. Sherlock shivered, clenched, leaned back to meet his brother's mouth. Greg grunted and shifted his hips, and Sherlock keened into Mycroft's mouth, hands scrabling for Greg's hands. "Please, please, move," he gasped, kissing his brother desparately. "I'm so full, I need..."

Mycroft nodded, breaking the kiss as he slowly began to pull out. Sherlock keened high and tight as Mycroft began to thrust back in, body relaxed in spite of his grip on Greg's hands. The motion was painfully slow, but Sherlock's arse was already turning red with the strain. Each time Mycroft pulled out, he drizzled lube over his cock, until he was sliding against Greg quite easily. 

"Stop," Greg gasped at last. "Sherlock, if I move we'll break you. Ride us." At first, he thought Sherlock wouldn't comply, didn't have the energy, but then the detective shifted and, with a look of intense concentration, lifted himself on his knees and began to grind against them, the liberal amounts of lube Mycroft had applied easing the way. 

Soon he was bouncing on Greg's lap, soaked in sweat and hair a mess, cock bouncing with the movement. Greg reached up and tweaked his nipples with one gloved hand while he gripped Sherlock's cock with the other, and then Sherlock went still, coming with hardly a grunt, both of them still inside him. When he was finished, he slumped forward, oversensitive. "My turn," Mycroft said decisively, and began to thrust once more, Sherlock whimpering the whole time. It took barely a minute for him to come, and then he pulling out, and Greg shifted, rolled Sherlock onto his back and pushed his legs up over his chest. 

"Alright, lad?" he asked again, smoothing his hair back with his clean hand. Sherlock whined, high and tight, and wriggled his hips. Taking that as a yes, Greg began to move, thrusting against his loose hole until the world went spangled around the edges. He slumped forward, waiting until he was finished before he pulled out and removed and tied his condom.

Then Mycroft was there with a water bottle, helping his brother drink. Sherlock's head lolled in the aftermath of his arousal, but he managed to swallow some before Mycroft helped him to sit up and find his clothes. Sherlock winced as he sat up, already looking more stable, more in control.

 

"We should... we should finish." Sherlock's cheeks were flushed and his hair tousled, but already his eyes seemed clearer, and when Greg felt for his pulse point, his heart beat was stronger than before.

"Alright, lad." Greg helped him up and the three of them set their clothes to rights in silence. When that was done, Greg climbed back into the hole and picked up his shovel. "Let's find this twice-damned woman and get out of here."

**Author's Note:**

> Please note: This is fanfiction. Double penetration in real life requires a lot more lube, several more days or weeks, and several more conversations between everyone involved. I've vaguely implied above that these three have done this together before, but even had they not, this is happening 1) in Sherlock's mind palace and 2) in fiction. Please don't hurt yourselves or any of your partners by going too quickly with anal play. GO SLOW! USE LUBE! STOP IF IT HURTS! Most importantly, listen to your body and your partner(s), and things will go much better.
> 
> Also, and I shouldn't have to say this, but- fucking someone is a pretty sad idea when they're going through overdose. It's not a treatment for withdrawal, and it's not going to make digging a grave easier.


End file.
